


The Christmas Present

by SunlitStone



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Gen, copious application of dragon logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitStone/pseuds/SunlitStone
Summary: "A present," Temeraire repeated. "The white stag. To...show our appreciation of him as our host.""That seems very foolish."Temeraire sniffed. "I would not want people to think my host did not have enough things, or sufficiently fine ones.""Oh, very well," grumbled Iskierka, sounding disgruntled in her turn. "I suppose you are right. I will have to join you.""No you will not!""I will; you are right; there is nothing else for it."Or: Temeraire and Iskierka discover (something adjacent to) the true meaning of Christmas.





	The Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnandtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/gifts).



> Please note that absolutely no attempt at any accuracy other than the characterological has been made, be that scientific, historical, mythological or logistical :P Don't regard this as a guide to Christmas practices in England in the post-Napoleonic era, is what I'm saying (even ignoring the dragons).
> 
> Thanks to rosefox for last-minute betaing! I came to you in a panic, and you were patient, helpful, and wonderfully kind :) 
> 
> And finally and most importantly: Happy Yuletide, yarnandtea! I hope you like your story; I certainly enjoyed writing it. It definitely qualifies as silly, and there may even be a moment or two of sweet :)

"A Christmas present?" repeated Temeraire uncertainly. He was not at all opposed to the idea that Tharkay should receive nice things, of course; but it did seem rather hard that they should have to come from him.

Thankfully Laurence did not press the matter, though he did look in Temeraire's opinion rather unnecessarily amused, but only said, "Never mind, my dear; do not worry, I will see to something for the both of us," and then he brought out a new treatise on mathematics that Temeraire had been enjoying, and Temeraire settled in for an enjoyable session of listening to Laurence read.

So all in all it seemed to Temeraire that he really ought to be able to forget about the matter. Yet something about it lingered in his mind, an uncomfortable sensation, like when some piece of luggage was strapped to him at a rough angle; except in this case, he reflected gloomily, he did not think that any amount of rearing up and shaking would settle things correctly. _A chance for celebration, now that the war is over,_ Laurence had said. _To honour our friendship, and to show our appreciation of our host,_ Laurence had said. And it was occurring to Temeraire, a little guiltily, that although of course Tharkay was now more than capable of correctly adorning himself and his grounds, and certainly had better taste in the matter than Laurence, this perhaps did not entirely erase Temeraire's obligation to Tharkay, as a member of his crew. After all, he could not imagine Laurence ceasing to buy him gifts, simply because Temeraire was capable of doing so himself; nor would Temeraire ever decide that Laurence himself had received enough; and although there were certainly many men who did not deserve a similar recognition, he could not even attempt to convince himself that Tharkay was one of them.

The thing to do was obvious: he would get Tharkay a present, after all. And, he realized happily, he could surprise Laurence this way too, for he knew that Laurence would be very pleased if Temeraire recognized Tharkay this way. He sighed happily at the thought of Laurence's reaction. It would be like two presents for the price of one, he thought, and felt very pleased with himself.

Only, having made this resolution, it was not entirely obvious what to do next. Normally, of course, when he wished to buy something he ordered it through Laurence, or, if he particularly wished to surprise Laurence, through Tharkay. With neither of his customary alternatives available, he found himself feeling rather lost. Over the course of the next few days his spirits sank, and Laurence began asking him what was the matter.

Iskierka's presence in his pavilion did not help matters in the least, and he wished irritably that Granby would cut their visit short; so it was ironic that the answer came to him, after all, through a story he overhead Granby telling Iskierka as he lay on the other side of the pavilion, trying to ignore the both of them.

"I still don't see why he didn't just eat it," Iskierka was grumbling.

"I think he wanted to show everyone he'd caught it," said Granby. "That's hard to do if you eat it on the spot, you know." Temeraire supposed this was reasonable enough; it was very unpleasant when people doubted that you'd done the things you'd said you'd done. Just like people doubting that Laurence was a prince of China, why—!

"I'd eat it. And if anyone doubted I'd caught it—"

"I know, dear, but not all of us are quite as intimidating as you."

"That's true," said Iskierka, sounding pleased. "I suppose even if he did have a dragon with him, they might not have been as intimidating as I am."

"Very true," agreed Granby readily, and, Temeraire had to allow, honestly; he could scare people quite as much as Iskierka, if he liked, but of course most dragons didn't even have her flame, or Lily's acid, never mind the Divine Wind.

"In any case," continued Granby, "so he found the white stag, and he took it back to the castle, and everyone knew that meant he should be the lord after all. So his brothers had to give up, and he became the duke."

"And then he ate it."

"I don't think the story actually says. I suppose he might have done."

"Hmmm," said Iskierka. "I don't think that was a very good story. I'd rather go back to that conjecture about parallel lines."

"Oh, very well. I think I have it here somewhere—" and they were off again.

But Temeraire was no longer paying attention. A grand prize, that the man in the story had wanted to show to everyone, that had been enough to confirm him as the lord of the area. It seemed rather a better idea to Temeraire than Tharkay's court case; in any case, he did not think Tharkay's rivals for the position would have had any dragons helping them, so he could be sure of Tharkay's victory. He supposed it was not strictly necessary, since Tharkay had won after all—but Temeraire knew people were still grumbling sometimes, and he thought that Tharkay might be very pleased to have further proof of his victory; and best of all, it was a present Temeraire could give him without having to spend any money, and if he brought it to Tharkay everyone would know that he was an excellent hunter, as well as recognizing that Tharkay should be the lord. This last decided him, and he set out immediately for a flight over the forest.

He flew for some time before admitting to himself that he was getting nowhere. The snow was thick, and unpleasant to fly in; he suspected that he would not be able to spot even a regular stag, never mind one which would blend in so with its surroundings. He returned to his pavilion, but resolved not to give up. He would simply try again tomorrow, when the snow had died down a little.

The next day there was still snow, but rather less of it, and Temeraire thought he might make some progress. Unfortunately, when he rose to head outside, he found himself interrupted; Iskierka had uncurled her head, and was looking at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I am going hunting," answered Temeraire haughtily, feeling rather as though it was none of her business.

"No you are not; they just fed us; and it is snowing, and you hate flying in the snow, and you went out yesterday."

"...I am very hungry," Temeraire said, aware that it was rather feeble.

"I do not believe you," said Iskierka. "If you do not tell me, you know, I will ask Granby, and he will ask Laurence; so you may as well tell me."

"Oh, do not do that! Very well, I will tell you, but it must be a secret; Laurence cannot know." At least, Temeraire reassured himself, Iskierka would not be in the least interested in the matter, and would cease to bother him once he explained. "I am finding Tharkay a Christmas present."

"What?"

"A present," Temeraire repeated. "The white stag. To... show our appreciation of him as our host."

"That seems very foolish."

Temeraire sniffed. "I would not want people to think my host did not have enough things, or sufficiently fine ones."

"Oh, very well," grumbled Iskierka, sounding disgruntled in her turn. "I suppose you are right. I will have to join you."

"No you will not!"

"I will; you are right; there is nothing else to it. Besides," she added, "it was Granby's idea to begin with, which means I have as much a right as you do. And, if you do not let me come with you, I will tell Laurence."

Damn Iskierka, he thought. He should have known better than to think she would leave him alone; if there was some way to be trouble, Iskierka invariably found it. But he could not see that he had much choice.

"All right," he said, aware that he sounded rather ungracious. "I will let you come with me. But you must not tell Granby, either, or _he_ will tell Laurence." He sighed. "I did not make much progress yesterday, so we will have to start at the beginning. In fact," he added, inspired, "it could be very useful to have the both of us. We will start in the middle of the forest, and then work our way out, in a spiral pattern—"

He felt sure Mei would have been pleased with him, but Iskierka rejected the idea at once. "Please! I am no fool," she said. "If we do not go together, if you find it on your own, you will simply bring it back, and then _I_ will have to think of something."

He tried to point out that Christmas was not for another ten days, and if he found it, he could hardly bring it back without her noticing, never mind keep it for so long, but it was to no avail: Iskierka insisted on coming along with him, directly.

"In that case, let us start a few miles out from the grounds, and work our way out," he suggested. "That way we can be sure that we will not be looking in areas Tharkay is looking," for it had become natural to him that Tharkay, too, was looking for the white stag.

To this Iskierka reluctantly acquiesced, and they set off together towards the forest.

\---

The first day they found nothing. The second day, the snowing had died down entirely, and they found more wildlife; some of it stags, and some of it white, but with sadly no overlap between the two. By the third day Temeraire was getting rather worried. They had only a week left, and what would happen if they could not find it, after all—?

Still, he assured himself, a week was seven days,; and surely that was plenty of time. Besides, though he hated to admit it, it was faster with Iskierka beside him. And if he really could not find it by the end of the fifth day—well, at least the sixth—or the morning of the seventh—he would simply tell Laurence, and work something out that way.

Yet they had no luck on the third day, nor the fourth. That evening his spirits were unusually low, and, despite his best efforts, Laurence noticed easily when he came by for his evening visit.

"My dear," he asked, his hand resting near Temeraire's nose, "are you well? Lately you have been flying a great deal. I had thought you only wished to take advantage of the light, but—"

"Oh! Yes, that is all," said Temeraire, seizing on the excuse. "It is only, you know, with everyone so quiet for the holiday, there is very little to do, and there is so little light; I am sure it will be better once things have gone back to normal." Laurence seemed to accept this, but Temeraire felt the guilt of lying to him, even when he overheard Iskierka give Granby a similar excuse. He did not wish to wait until Christmas to stop, not if it was worrying Laurence, and he vowed privately that they would find the stag tomorrow.

But when the fifth day dawned it brought with it a blizzard sufficiently severe that even Iskierka had to admit that flying would be unwise. Instead they lay glumly in Temeraire's pavilion, avoiding all exchanges with each other; they both knew that the search was not progressing as they might have wished.

The confinement, and the futility of their efforts, affected Iskierka, and she muttered to herself repeatedly, Temeraire doing his best to ignore her as he was ignoring his own uncertainty. Finally she burst out: "Do not be a fool, Temeraire, we will not be able to find the stag. I am not even convinced it lives near here. Are you sure we cannot kill his enemies instead? I think that would be a very fine gift, and certainly we would be able to find them much more easily."

Temeraire had to admit she had a point, but suspected that Laurence, at least, would not approve. And besides, recalling conversations with him, "No," he said; "it is better if they are convinced that he is the rightful heir of the land. If we scare them, they may simply act again when we are elsewhere, but if they are convinced, then we they will stop themselves for us."

"Hmmm," Iskierka said. "Well, but you must admit that we are not making any progress. We have not even found a trace of it. It is as though we were looking for Napoleon in the Americas."

"No," agreed Temeraire reluctantly. It was clear the stag was able to avoid them—perhaps it could sense their arrival somehow; normal stags could not, but then Temeraire did not think that normal stags were proof of inheritance, or else their work would be a great deal easier. A thought struck him. "Perhaps we need to lure it in," he suggested. "Did Granby tell you anything of what might attract them?"

"I do not believe so," said Iskierka. "Other than being the rightful heir, but if we are intending to surprise him I do not see that we could use Tharkay. But perhaps they are like unicorns."

It transpired that unicorns were attracted by virgin women, although Iskierka was not entirely sure what this last meant. "It is women who have not mated," Temeraire explained. "Humans are often very odd about those sorts of things. But I am not sure if this is helpful; we cannot take anyone with us, and even if we could, I think Roland has mated with someone already."

"I am sure we _could_ , but I do not think we need to," said Iskierka. "I do not believe anyone can tell whether a human has mated by how they look or sound; it must be by scent."

Temeraire saw Iskierka's point immediately: they did not need a virgin woman, only clothes a virgin woman had worn. "Roland will still not suit, and we cannot ask Laurence or Granby or Tharkay, they will want to know why." He thought for a moment more. "Perhaps we could ask Stewart," meaning the young woman who cleaned his pavilion once a week. "She is due tomorrow afternoon; we can try to find something in the morning, but if we cannot, we need only ask her instead. I am sure she will know someone."

Iskierka agreed that this would do, and they both settled in to their usual activities, their spirits much buoyed by having a plan.

\---

The next morning, indeed—it was now only the third day before Christmas—they did not find the stag, though Iskierka found one a much lighter brown than the others and suggested they might dye it. But Temeraire was feeling confident in his new plan, and besides (though he did not confide this to Iskierka) had very little idea of how you went about dyeing anything; so instead in the late afternoon they returned to the pavilion, still in relatively fine spirits, and waited for Stewart. It seemed to take forever, and Temeraire thought that surely she was taking longer to arrive than she had in the past. But finally she was there, and the moment she walked in the pavilion, Temeraire asked her if she was a virgin.

"Or know any," he added, as she stood there staring at him. He'd thought Stewart was accustomed to his presence by now, but this was still England, and people were still strange about dragons. Or perhaps it was the added presence of Iskierka, though she had not seemed to be bothered last week.

"I most certainly am," she said finally, her face bright red. "Sir." She seemed on the verge of adding something else, but when Temeraire cocked his head at her inquisitively, she fell silent.

"Well, good," he said, after it became clear that she did not mean to continue. "That makes things much simpler."

"Yes," added Iskierka. "You must give us your clothes now."

Stewart paused, a look of bewilderment and uncertainty passing across her face. "I beg your pardon, sir, ma'am," she said, "but I do not think I can go back to the castle naked."

"Oh, no, it does not have to be all your clothes," Temeraire reassured her, and as she continued to hesitate, added generously, "It does not have to be the ones you are wearing right now, either, just so long as they are not clean. We are trying to find a unicorn." This was, of course, not of course quite true, but he did not want Tharkay finding out about the stag.

At this something in her expression lightened, though there was still a frown on her brow. "With respect, sir and ma'am, I think you would be better with getting my lord to bring you some—it is very cold out, I do not think I can spare very much, begging your pardon."

"Oh, but we cannot tell Tharkay!" exclaimed Temeraire, Iskierka shifting next to him in alarm. "No, you must promise not to tell anyone. We are trying to find him a Christmas present."

Stewart was still frowning, but at least there did not seem to be anything like fear in her face. "People will certainly notice if I do not have my clothes when I return," she said doubtfully. "Even if it is not all of them. Perhaps I could bring you some tomorrow, in a bundle, but I am not sure what I would tell them."

"Oh, that is easy," said Iskierka. "You can tell them we did not think the pavilion was clean enough, and wanted you to come back."

Stewart grimaced, and Temeraire hastily added, "Or perhaps that we interfered with your cleaning—tell them that we asked you too many questions, and you did not have the time to finish, and we wanted you to come back so we could ask you some more."

Stewart glanced between them, then sighed and nodded. "As you wish, sir, ma'am."

\---

The next morning they set out bright and early—well, as early as bright could be, this time of year—with Stewart's clothes divided between two bags, each dragon clutching one of them. Stewart had begged them to be careful with her clothes—she did not have many, Temeraire had to admit—but reassured that this was for Tharkay, and that they would indeed be very careful with them, handed them over without further protest.

For the first time, they split up. Temeraire put his clothes in the middle of a clearing, and circled above, waiting; Iskierka was flying low over the woods with her bag extended beneath her. At noon they switched over, Iskierka watching the clearing while Temeraire took to the skies. But in neither way did they have any luck, and Temeraire was feeling unhappy and uncertain as they once more returned stagless to the pavilion: it was the twenty-third of December, and they still had not found the stag.

Shortly after they returned to the pavilion Stewart showed up again and inspected her clothes; they were wet but fine.

"Thank you for the loan of your clothes," Temeraire remembered to say politely, though he was not able to put much feeling in it. Iskierka snorted unhappily beside him.

Stewart hesitated. "Were—were you able to find the unicorn, sir?"

"No," said Temeraire unhappily, and "Are you sure you are a virgin?" said Iskierka.

"Yes!" said Stewart. "Er, ma'am." She hesitated. "Do you think—if I brought you more clothes—"

"I thought you didn't have any," said Iskierka darkly.

"No, but—I could ask a few of the girls—"

"I do not think it would be enough," said Temeraire unhappily. "You may go, if you like." 

Stewart looked at him and nodded, but as she turned to leave Iskierka said, "Wait."

Stewart froze, and Temeraire turned his head to look at her.

"Bring us as many as you can," said Iskierka. To Temeraire she added, "I think it is the cold."

Temeraire did not understand what she meant; he did not like to say so, but she seemed to have guessed anyway, for she snorted and said, "Have you never noticed? It is much harder to smell something in the cold than it is in the heat. We will start a fire, and put the clothes around it."

He had not noticed, but now that she mentioned it he had to admit she was correct. "Yes, please do," he told Stewart, who was looking at Iskierka skeptically. When she still hesitated, he added, "I promise, it is for Tharkay; we are trying to help him; only do not tell anyone, it must be a surprise," and she sighed and nodded and turned to leave.

The next morning they flew out before Stewart even got there and prepared to start a fire in one of the clearings. It was more complicated than Temeraire would have thought—apparently you could not simply pile up wood, but had to form a specific structure. Fortunately, Iskierka was familiar with the principles. He knocked down a pile of trees for them, doing his best to be as quiet as possible under the circumstances, and they set up the trees in the middle of the clearing, then Temeraire stood back while Iskierka lit them on fire.

He flew back to his pavilion while Iskierka build up a circle of snow around the fire, so that the clothes would have some protection from the flame; Stewart had already been and gone, and there was a large bag of clothes behind Temeraire's usual sleeping position. He grabbed it and returned to the clearing. He tried to help Iskierka with her circle; after the third time she snarled at him, he stepped back and let her finish it alone.

He knew she was feeling what he was feeling. Tomorrow was Christmas: if this did not work, there would be no further chances. He rather regretted now not pursuing Iskierka's idea of dyeing the light brown stag, though of course he had no intention of admitting this to her.

She finished with the circle; they spread the clothes out; they waited.

The seconds seemed like minutes to Temeraire, the minutes almost hours, and he wondered irritably why the stag was so reluctant to show up. "It is not as though we are going to hurt you," he called out, and nudged Iskierka until she rather grumblingly confirmed this, but it was still no use.

The sun moved overhead; Iskierka and Temeraire stayed, quiet, in the clearing, eyes intent on the woods around them. At one point Temeraire lifted and circled a few times, trying to catch a glimpse of the stag, but it was no use.

Finally noon came around. Temeraire was on the verge of suggesting they give up, return the clothes and confess all—Laurence at least would probably be able to come up with something, and he regretted now that he had been so determined on keeping the secret from him—when he finally heard movement in the forest.

Iskierka went suddenly tense beside him; she had heard it too. As one they looked to the source of the noise, ready to pounce at the first opportunity, when Tharkay rode into the clearing and pulled to a stop, Granby and Laurence beside him.

" _Damn_ ," said Iskierka crossly, and "Oh _no_ ," said Temeraire unhappily. Laurence was looking at him with deep concern, Granby sighing deeply, and Tharkay was looking between them, and then around, at the circle of clothes surrounding the giant fire. Finally he turned back to face Temeraire.

"Temeraire." He hesitated. "Would you mind explaining to me, please, what is going on?"

Temeraire hesitated in his turn, trying to come up with some explanation. "Oh, it is no use," Iskierka said to him, and confessed to Tharkay: "We were trying to find the white stag for you, as a Christmas present."

Laurence started and turned back curiously to look at Temeraire; Granby put his face in his hands. "Oh Lord," he said, though it came out sounding somewhat muffled.

"The white stag?" repeated Tharkay, sounding uncharacteristically confused.

"It's my fault," sighed Granby. "I was reading to Iskierka from that book of tales. There's a story where—" He grimaced. "Where a boy proves he's the rightful heir to the estate by finding a white stag and leading it back to show everyone, you know the kind of thing. I'm sorry, I didn't think it would lead to, ah..." He gestured around the clearing.

Tharkay's face was losing his confusion, even as Laurence said, "I do not see how you could; no, I am afraid the fault was mine. I suggested to Temeraire that he obtain a Christmas gift for you, Tenzing. Though I do not know how Iskierka was involved. And I had thought you were not interested," he added to Temeraire.

"Oh, well," said Temeraire, feeling wretched, "I wanted to surprise you as well." He found himself curling his tail around himself, protectively. Iskierka meanwhile snorted, and said disdainfully, "I was hardly going to let Temeraire be the only one to give a gift."

"I see," said Tharkay, and Temeraire suspected unhappily that he probably did. "I am afraid I still do not understand where the, ah, undergarments come in."

"We thought it must be like the unicorns," said Temeraire. "We knew they liked virgin women—" Granby choked, and Laurence reddened. "—but of course we could not bring any out here without your noticing, so we thought—"

" _I_ thought," Iskierka corrected, "that we should get some clothes worn by virgin women," and when their listeners still seemed confused Temeraire added, "Because we could not see how else they would know they were virgins, you see, unless they were smelling them."

"Much becomes clear," said Tharkay, though Temeraire thought there was a certain irony in his voice. "And the fire?"

"So they could smell," said Iskierka impatiently. "It is much easier to smell things in heat than in cold, you know."

"Hmm." Tharkay raised his eyebrows. "I do, in fact. I thank the both of you very much for your concern, and for your labour on my behalf. But you have had no luck in finding it?"

"No," admitted Temeraire reluctantly, Iskierka grumbling a similarly reluctant confirmation.

"Well," said Granby, "maybe it's because he's already been confirmed, eh? The boy in the story, they weren't at all sure of him, but Tharkay's been given the place by the courts; there's no getting out of it now."

Temeraire considered this. "I know that people are still unhappy about it."

"Some people, my dear," corrected Laurence, "and not most. I am afraid there will always be people who grumble about the court's decision; but that does not mean they do not recognize it as legitimate."

"Oh," said Temeraire, and then, "Ooh, I knew I should have come to you to begin with! And now it is too late."

"It is _not_ too late," said Iskierka. "Look, the sun is not yet set; we could still find a unicorn in time. Especially if we get them to help us; I am not at all sure these clothes are from proper virgins."

"That is very generous of you," said Tharkay quickly, "but I do not think I have need of a unicorn. No, ; I am sure I can come up with something that would suit me better. Temeraire, —there is a patch of woods in need of clearing; if you would aid me, I would be most grateful."

"Oh," said Temeraire, brightening, but then he saw Laurence smiling at him and forced himself to say, "But I would have done that in any case; I do not think it can count."

Tharkay considered this. "Perhaps a poem, in the Chinese style, describing my land," he suggested. "I have often missed their poetry."

"And he would be the only man in England with a Chinese poem about his land," agreed Laurence. "Or a poem written by a dragon, I believe."

"Oh, I am not sure," said Temeraire uncertainly, but as he began to consider the matter, "Yes, I am certain I will do it justice."

Tharkay was smiling now, too. "I thank you greatly, Temeraire. As to Iskierka—" he turned to her, and paused.

"Perhaps she could light your fire," suggested Granby. "You'd certainly be the only man in England with a Christmas fire lit by a dragon."

"And by the only dragon in England who can light a fire," agreed Tharkay. "If it pleases you, Iskierka?"

Iskierka shifted in pleasure; she did like being the only dragon in England who could breathe fire, though to Temeraire's mind it was nowhere near as impressive as the Divine Wind. "Yes," she said. "You will become quite famous, I am sure."

"I suspect so," said Tharkay. He paused, eyeing the fire. "I will get some men to gather up the clothes. Ah—some women, in fact, I think." And then to Granby, "Do you suppose there's any way to stop the fire?"

"Probably, but I don't think I'd want to chance it. They've built it well back from the rest of the trees, anyway, and it's winter, I don't think it'll spread."

Tharkay sighed. "I'll get some people out to watch it." Then he turned back to Temeraire and Iskierka. "If you do not object, I think you should return to the pavilion. I will send someone to write for you, Temeraire." And then to Iskierka, "And I will begin to have the fire prepared, though I think it would be best if you were to light it just before nightfall."

Temeraire and Iskierka looked at each other for a moment; Iskierka shrugged a wing. "Thank you," said Temeraire, and they both took off to the pavilion.

The land before them was lovely, Temeraire had to admit, and he started trying to compose something as they returned. He wanted to capture the shape of the woods in the winter, the chance moment of sun through falling snow—

"I could help you with your poem," said Iskierka as they landed.

" _No_ , Iskierka," said Temeraire. But as she began to settle in to her usual position, he added, “Do you think you would describe the forest as 'low'?"


End file.
